The Orphanage by Serhiy Zhadan; Reilly Costigan-Humes; Isaac Stackhouse Wheeler

Author:Serhiy Zhadan; Reilly Costigan-Humes; Isaac Stackhouse Wheeler
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Yale University Press
Published: 2020-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

DAY THREE

Looks like a fisherman who didn’t wind up catching anything all day: raincoat, camo underneath, rubber boots. His gut hangs down like a mailman’s bag. A Cossack whip sticks out of his bootleg, so everybody knows just who they’re dealing with. He shakes his large buzzed head, shouts, snaps orders. Nobody’s listening, though. The soldiers are scurrying all around—not to accomplish anything, just to keep warm. A field kitchen, black with smoke, rolls up to the station steps; they get it going and heat up the food. The rain hasn’t abated since last night. It persists, douses the flame. The soldiers haul over a large tent with an ad for a local beer on it, set it up above the kitchen, and cram themselves inside. Alexei stands under the cold January sky, not knowing where to go from here—step under the tent and sink to his subordinates’ level or keep waiting around out in the rain and get absolutely soaked. Cold heavy drops flow down his chubby, unshaven cheeks. He stands there and berates the soldiers. They berate him in response, and it becomes abundantly clear that that’s just the way they interact with each other, always getting too emotional or something, like a married couple that’s been living together for decades. They used up all their cordial words a long time ago, so they communicate with curses and maledictions. Well, it’s not like they’re going to sit there in silence.

Pasha and the kid make their way to the waiting area, pushing through the crowd to get closer to the windows. Outside the windows, facing the soldiers, Alexei is hollering his head off. You can’t hear what he’s shouting, but he’s gesticulating so vigorously that you understand exactly what he’s getting at. The smoke from the kitchen, broken up by the rain, drifts over the ground. The last thing they want to do is leave the train station, go out into the rain. The women stand around, huddle against one another, draw closer to the windows. It’s as if they’re watching a movie with no sound. Starring Alexei. He’s big, silent, waving his arms, threatening someone with his fist, menacingly directing his gaze at something beyond the horizon. He suddenly turns around, falters for an instant when he spots a group of spectators, dozens of women’s frightened faces carefully tracking his every move and gesture, surveys them all with the severity of an ataman, focuses his eyes, and begins yelling again, invitingly, spiritedly. Apparently he hasn’t adjusted his language, yet he instantly sucks in his gut, and his cheeks, too. He’s a military man, through and through. Pasha watches him and finds himself thinking that Alexei’s expression is so piercing, so sincere that it seems like he’s directly addressing Pasha, sharing something remarkably intimate with him. “Damn, that’s because he is,” Pasha eventually realizes. “He’s yelling something at me.” Pasha shoves a couple of small women aside, forces his way toward the doors, and opens them.

“Representative,” Alexei says, his voice discontented, “of the cocksucking citizenry.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.